


For Him

by Star_Crossed_Lovers_and_Other_Strangers



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Grinding, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Nipple Play, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Crossed_Lovers_and_Other_Strangers/pseuds/Star_Crossed_Lovers_and_Other_Strangers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted it all, but he knew this was enough, and it was more than fair. No other fathers would even dream of doing this for their son, but his cared about him enough to allow him time every night to get what he needed. What nobody else could give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Him

**Author's Note:**

> **Fandom:** Teen Wolf  
>  **Pairing:** Stiles Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski  
>  **Warnings:** Incest between father and son. Don't like, then don't read.  
>  **Author's Note:** There's not enough of this pairing in the fandom, so I wanted to write something and start with a more one-sided version, before possibly writing more/additional stuff?  
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters.

Stiles could hear his Dad getting ready for bed down the hallway. He lifted his face and stared at his doorway, until the anticipation pushed him to his feet. The chemistry textbook he'd been half-heartedly reading hit the ground and laid open; it was left abandoned as Stiles padded down the hallway. His movements were jerky, caught in his internal battle between the eagerness and excitement of the hour and the patience he knew he should have. The evening ritual had become more and more frequent, encouraged by Stiles' raging hormones and the emptiness of nights alone. The wooden floor moaned under the footfall, as Stiles peaked his head into his Dad's bedroom a little hesitantly. The bedspread was pulled down in an even line and the bedside lamp had been left on. The bathroom door was ajar, casting light on the oak dresser. His dad had already taken off his watch and placed it next to his keys and his wallet. Stiles smiled sadly at the old beat up thing; it was a present from his Mom that the Sheriff refused to exchange, even though the second hand had quit working years ago and the minute hand sometimes gave him trouble now. 

"Dad? You almost ready?" Stiles almost trembled when he spoke, but he swallowed it before it could be heard. He took a step into the room and stood a few feet from the bed, staring at it fondly. It had become more of his bed than the one in his room, he'd slept in it so often lately. Well, it was their bed. The one they now shared. The mattress was firm, and that had taken some getting used to, but it was better for his Dad's back. The pillows were old and soft, shoved half-hazardly into pillowcases with random supposedly manly designs on them: fish, and bikes, and cars. The blanket was thick, and smelled like his Dad. 

"Yeah, Stiles. Be out in a minute. You go ahead and get comfortable." Sounds wafted in; his Dad brushing his teeth, gurgling, spitting. Cleaning and drying his hands. Breathing. Stiles crawled onto the mattress and chose a side, sitting with his knees pulled up against his chest. The bathroom light went off and the door opened, exposing his father in a thin white tee and matching colored briefs. His eyes never left the man as he walked the steps to the unoccupied side of the bed and seated himself. The Sheriff propped up some pillows and got comfortable leaning back against them, hand going for the light.

"Leave it on. It's better for me that way," Stiles said quickly, if a little too frantically. His Dad only gave a small sigh and opened one arm to him, the other hand abandoning its move for the light and dropping at his side. Stiles crawled up against him, gingerly placing himself so he was somewhat turned into the older man and rested his head on the dependable shoulder. He started slow, lifting one hand to run across his father's chest outside his shirt: gentle, curious, soothing. He knew if things escalated too fast or too much, it would end. Stiles was already getting hard, and he couldn't hold back the urge to rub a little, dick getting friction off the Sheriff's side. "Yeah, t-this is good. Really good."

"Just go easy, Stiles," his father urged him. "Take your time. Enjoy yourself. Do you want me to stroke your hair?"

"Yeah, that'd be good." Stiles eyes fluttered a little in delight as the fingers rested in his hair, pausing first and then beginning to pet what was there. Oh fuck, he loved that. For a while, Stiles found a steady rhythm and kept it, rubbing his swollen self against his Dad, hand twisted in the t-shirt. He loved the way it fit him, clinging to the aged muscles that still remained able and firm. A shudder ran through his whole body as he let his eyes venture lower, teased by the contents of his father's underwear, which covered the bulge of his cock and balls, hidden beneath the cotton. He'd rip it off if he could, but he knew that was against the rules.

"Easy, now, Stiles," the Sheriff whispered. "You'll finish too fast, and you'll be disappointed you didn't have more restraint. This only happens once a day. Savor it, enjoy it... breathe deep, okay, honey?"

"I'm trying," he whined in response, pressing his face into his Dad. "You're so unbelievably hot." Stiles erection was pressing almost painfully now against his boxers, but he knew if he let it out, he'd spill all his cum in less than a minute. And then it'd be over. He hated when it was over. "Maybe if I could just see it? Or touch it, distract myself for a second?"

"No, Stiles," his father said patiently. "You know how it works. You know the rules. They're there for a reason. You get your release. I know you're happy and satisfied. We made a deal." Stiles hated the rules. Hated them. He wanted to gorge himself on his Dad's cock, and learn to deep throat it just the right way to make the older man bust the hardest. He wanted to kiss him, full and wet, with both of their mouths open. He wanted to lay under him, arms and legs wrapped around him as his Dad filled him with dick, and heat, and love. He wanted it all, but he knew this was enough, and it was more than fair. No other fathers would even dream of doing this for their son, but his cared about him enough to allow him time every night to get what he needed. What nobody else could give him.

"Shit, Dad, I want it bad," Stiles panted, eyes almost wet from the desire to come, an ignored demand from his throbbing self. "Please, I don't care, I just want it."

"You always say that, son, and end up frustrated," his Dad reminded. "Here. You can put one hand up my shirt and get some skin. But that's it. That's as far as it goes." Stiles didn't waste any time, and entered his trembling hand from the bottom, sliding over warm skin and pumping blood. He bravely ran a thumb over one nipple, and it hardened, giving him hope. He looked up at his father almost desperately, filled with such greedy hunger, it was unquenchable. His fingers played with the nipple and Stiles knew he wouldn't hold it in.

The other hand flew to his boxers, scrambling to undo the one button that held him inside and fussed it open, forming a fist around his meat, which pulsed red with longing. "God, Dad, I love you so much. So fucking much." He gritted his teeth in an effort to not lose himself, but after a few more seconds it was over, and he spilled his load. It oozed messily all over his finger tips and his breath came out in soft, hissing pants. Yeah, he was frustrated it hadn't lasted longer, but for those few seconds he was lost in everything that was his father. The smell, the touch, all of it.

He would never voice it anytime soon, but Stiles held hope that one day his father would let them kiss. Maybe then, later, he'd let Stiles see his cock, even touch it. Jerk it off. Oh, how he wanted to play with it and suck on it, extracting every bit of sweetness and salt that he could find. A few years down the road, Stiles hoped it'd be different. It wouldn't only be about him and his orgasm, but both of them, sharing in each other. Still, he felt comfort in knowing that he was already so much more to his Dad than a body. That's why the Sheriff did it--not because he derived any personal satisfaction from the touching, but from knowing his son was well taken care of, and left wanting nothing. 

Stiles got up to clean himself off, and then returned to the bed in haste. He laid with his father, and found sleep a few minutes after, wrapped in warm blankets and unconditional love.


End file.
